Love Hearts
by natalieashe
Summary: Kate is in town and Sherlock has to deal with his feelings about Greg's ex-lover Rating may go up if smut happens, but this starts off as unashamed fluff Continuation of Whisky/Eighties/Desire/Shadows, set before the Epilogue of Shadows. Rating upped because these two can't keep their hands off each other.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Bit of a change for me - normally I don't start posting a story until it's all written, but this one is totally on the fly and as such may not be updated as quickly as I normally do. This is inspired by a random act of kindness involving Love Hearts (they're sweets with little messages on them, in case you have no clue, and someone anonymous left a packet on my desk at work). Hopefully this will work - reviews would be helpful. Thanks in advance :-) It is sort of a continuation of my previous light-hearted Sherstrade stories, and may be heavy on the fluff, for which I make no apology lol**

**'Hug me'**

Greg Lestrade swore and waved his hand over the side of the bed, patting at the floor in a vain attempt to find his mobile whose alarm was screeching like an air raid siren. Normally it played 'I Fought the Law' – a slightly ironic attempt at rebellion – but Sherlock had been messing with his phone again and had clearly messed up all the sounds. He didn't know if it was his boyfriend's attempt to play a prank or if Sherlock was just plain incompetent when it came to finding the app he needed, but this was the third time since they'd been dating he had been rudely awakened by an aggressive alarm tone.

"Turn it _off_!" Groaned the muffled voice of the great lump lying beside him. All that could be seen of the consulting detective was a dark spill of curls across the pillow, and one bony foot poking out from under the duvet.

"I'm trying, you bloody great lummox, but I can't find it. Where did you toss my jeans?"

A long skinny arm waved in imperiously in the vague direction of Greg's side of the bed. "Down there somewhere. Where are you going anyway?"

The shrill scream was finally silenced as Greg located his phone underneath his discarded pants on the floor and slid a finger across the screen. He dropped it back onto the bedside table and rolled closer to the mound, burying under the covers to snuggle closer to his lover's scrawny form. He stroked his hand down Sherlock's lean back down to his tightly muscled buttocks giving the left one a squeeze. Sherlock huffed sleepily, turning his head so Greg could push his lips against his cheek. "Mmm, spiky but nice. You need a shave."

"Nah, bit of designer stubble on a hot man like me drives the women wild," he sniggered. "I have to go to work remember? It's the 'thing'."

Sherlock's head shot up, duvet falling away from his face and narrow shoulders tense. "You need to shave. You need to look… presentable, but not too…"

"Sexy?" He grinned at his boyfriend's sudden burst of jealousy, not feeling mean in the least for teasing him. It was rare for him to get the upper hand in anything to do with their relationship; Sherlock's insecurity about his friend Kate amused him. Now that his lover had emerged from his hollow-fiber cocoon Greg pounced, crushing his lips against Sherlock's in an enthusiastic sloppy kiss. "Stop worrying," he joked between kisses. "Kate and I have the presentation and then dinner. I think she can manage to keep her hands off me for the duration of her time in London. And if she doesn't I'll just tell her that I have a very, sexy, consulting detective waiting for me at home who wouldn't like it one bit if I shagged her senseless."

"Fuck off, Greg," Sherlock pulled away, tugging the duvet over his head once more and hiding from the man who had turned his sense of self on its head so spectacularly. Greg didn't understand what it was like for him to allow himself to be so vulnerable, but he hated to put all that weakness on display.

"Oh Sherlock, stop being so dramatic. I'm teasing you love, honestly. Kate knows that I'm head over heels with you, and she wouldn't expect anything from me while I'm with someone. That's not how we work!"

"Oh well, that makes it so much better. Knowing she's waiting in the wings to swallow you down the minute things start to go sour."

Greg snorted at the unintentional innuendo but immediately sobered when Sherlock refused to budge from beneath the bedclothes. With a resigned sigh he wriggled back under the covers and nudged closer to Sherlock's tense body. "I love you, you know? You're my bloke." He bumped his shoulder against the other's still form which remained resolutely facing away. "I really have to go get ready, but I don't want to leave if you're mad."

"Not mad," came the pathetic little voice. Greg rolled his eyes. Honestly the man could be so bloody childish. Sherlock knew that he and Kate were just friends. Friends with benefits, once upon a time not so long ago, but that was definitely in the past now that he and Sherlock were together. Kate was fantastic, and sexy as hell, but he'd tumbled back into a committed relationship and he was perfectly content with his decision. Apparently he just had to convince his over-sensitive boyfriend of that however.

"Give us a hug before I go for a shower?"

Sherlock half turned, twining himself in the duvet but freeing one skinny arm to wrap around his lover's neck. "Don't fall in love with Kate," he commanded.

"Never have, never will." He kissed Sherlock lightly and headed for the bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Will you**

Greg leaned against the wall by the conference room door offering the occasional greeting to attendees as they arrived and sipping a glass of water. He'd checked the overhead projector worked, and that the presentation Kate had emailed him played without a hitch. Now all he had to do was wait for the woman herself to arrive, and for the first time ever in the history of their friendship, he was nervous.

Kate was… spectacular. Something special, without a doubt, but definitely not interested in being anyone's long term lover. She was career focused and determined to reach the pinnacle of her profession without any hiccups that lesser mortals succumbed to, such as love, marriage and family. He occasionally felt a little sorry for her, not having any kind of ambition to build a life outside her job, but he couldn't deny that her lack of sentiment was the underpinning of all she had achieved. Their telephone conversations had always been flirty, but since Durham they had been littered with sexual innuendo and inappropriate teasing that shouldn't really happen between friends, particularly not when one of them had finally entered the relationship he'd been fantasizing about. At one point he'd been desperate for Sherlock to get to know the real Kate, but actually no, that would never do at all!

"Hey gorgeous!" Kate's sultry tones whispered over the sensitive skin of his neck and he found goose bumps prickling his skin. She giggled at his stunned expression, one hand coming to rest lightly in the small of his back, the other curling around his forearm in a gentle grip. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we? Then we can get out of here and have some fun." She winked and Greg's mouth felt drier than the Sahara desert. She looked absolutely stunning in an emerald green fitted dress that gripped her curves but still managed to look business-like. Her long red curly hair was pinned up, exposing the long column of her alabaster neck, and Greg realized he was noticing far too much detail about his friend and certain parts of his anatomy were jumping to attention. He drained his glass and followed her into the conference room, captivated by the way her arse moved under the rich fabric.

Their presentation on collaborative working was well-received and after twenty minutes of intense questioning the delegates began to file away, chatting amongst themselves. When the last party left and the door swung shut, Kate launched herself at him, hugging his solid body tight against her voluptuous one and planting a firm kiss on his wary lips. "Hello again," she teased, pressing her ample chest against his. Somehow the position squeezed her full breasts into a deep cleavage and all that pale creamy skin looked deliciously soft. He tried very hard not to think of past encounters when his erection had slipped between those impressive mounds and dipped between her full lips… It was still a favored memory for nights when he slept alone but _fuck_ that was the kind of thought he wasn't supposed to have any more.

Kate could read him easily though and pressed her lips against his once more, her tongue probing until he let her slip between his teeth and their mouths were sliding against each other. Both of her hands slipped from his waist down to his arse, tugging his hips forward to meet her own and he was responding, rubbing his growing erection into her belly. One hand skimmed over the ample curve of her buttock and down to her thigh, seeking the hem of the dress, and when he found it he slid his hand back up her bare leg raising her skirt with it until he could dip his fingers into the wet heat between her legs. She groaned, the vibrations echoing into his mouth and straight to his cock. "Do me now," she begged breathlessly. "Right here." She already had his belt unfastened and his zip half down when there was a noisy rattle of cups and a catering assistant pushed through the door with a trolley to clear up the refreshments. Greg leapt away from her, setting his clothes to rights and blushing furiously. What the hell was he doing? Kate was… hell, he wanted her, same way he always had… but he couldn't do this, not now that he had something with Sherlock.

"I'm sorry, I can't… Talk to you later," he gasped as he dashed for the exit and some cooling fresh air.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hard luck**

They drove across London to Greg's flat in awkward silence, Greg trying to ignore the rising hem of Kate's skirt showing more bare leg with each surreptitious glance he made across the car. He had set their evening on a path that it should never have taken and rather like a car crash, he could see himself hurtling towards disaster without being able to prevent it. His face felt hot with shame even as his trousers were feeling a little tight. He almost regretted inviting Kate to stay at his place following the conference dinner, but it was a bit late to back out now and suggest she should get a hotel. Perhaps he should have made more of an effort to tell Sherlock that she was staying over, but the detective was so jealous it had just seemed easier not to bother.

What the hell was _wrong_ with him? He'd teased Sherlock about his insecurity, only to realize his boyfriend had good reason to doubt him, and that was a very uncomfortable revelation for a man who generally considered himself to be honorable. _You really are a fucking idiot, Lestrade. You're also an adult; any bad decision you make from here on in is on you alone. If you screw up the best thing to happen to you in years just because you're having a wobble about never having sex with a woman again…_

They only had an hour to change before they needed to return to the hotel where the conference dinner was to be held so Greg ushered Kate off to the shower and once the door closed behind her he picked up his phone to call Sherlock. He really needed to hear his voice to remind him just what was important to him. His lover answered on the second ring, far more quickly than usual. "Hi," he answered softly, "How was the 'thing' with Kate?"

Greg looked towards the bathroom guiltily and turned his back to it; if he couldn't see it, it wasn't a problem. "Um, fine… Yeah, went well… I just popped back to change for the dinner."

"Good. That's great! Marvelous!"

Greg forced a cheery chuckle, "You think it's marvelous that I'm changing clothes? Got to look my best, so I thought I'd wear the grey shirt you bought me.

"Um, yes, that would probably look good on you; I haven't seen you wear it yet. Perhaps you were saving it for a special date?" Sherlock sounded distracted, and a maybe a little put out that he had decided to wear the shirt for an occasion not involving him.

"Are you ok love?"

The bathroom door opened and Kate stepped out completely naked and lovely. "Any chance of a fresh towel?" She grinned at Greg's shocked expression and stalked across the small living room towards him. His cheeks flamed as he backed up towards the window out of reach, and he mentally ticked off every reason it was bad that they were here in the flat together like this. Suddenly recalling he was still connected he raised the phone back to his ear and said "Got to go Sherlock, I'll call you later. Love you."

"Kate…" he held up one hand to keep her at bay and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry… I… I think I made a mistake…"

"Oh, okay. It's not a problem, but I kind of need that towel…?" She said breezily.

"Airing cupboard. Door to the left of the bathroom, help yourself."

She gave her usual genuine smile, not phased at all by his rejection, and sashayed back towards the bathroom collecting a soft fluffy towel en route. He turned to the window and rested his burning forehead to the cool glass, eyes closed. Although it pained his male pride to realize that sleeping with him would have been no big deal to her, just a fun way to pass the time, he was relieved to get out of it with no drama. _God you are such a fool Greg. Preparing to risk everything for someone who only fancied a convenient quick shag! You don't know how lucky you are to get away with it. _He looked down into the darkened street where a black cab waited by the kerb near the coffee shop opposite. A tall, dark-haired man stepped out of the shadows and disappeared into the back seat, speeding away into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Bit of a longer chapter that will hopefully mean my dear readers will forgive me a little for past hurts :-D Please review if you like this, or even if you don't lol**

**Hold me**

Greg raced downstairs into the street but the cab was long gone and his boyfriend with it. "Shit!" He exclaimed, kicking out at the closest piece of road furniture and feeling the metallic clang of his foot connecting with the sign in a vibration all the way up to his thigh. He patted himself down finding his wallet but no car keys so waved furiously at the next black cab to trundle along the street. The driver pulled over, giving him an odd look when he yelled "Baker Street" at him and tumbled into the back. What had Sherlock heard? What had he _seen_? Why was he even there, spying on him? He dismissed the last question as a measure of his guilty conscience. If Sherlock had been checking up on him then he had good reason, but he didn't believe that was his lover's style. Sherlock would have a perfectly logical explanation for loitering in the shadows near to his flat that had nothing to do with Greg's apparent infidelity.

They arrived at their destination with a screech of brakes loud enough to wake the dead. There were no lights in the upstairs window but Mrs. Hudson's place was glowing like Blackpool, which was handy when he realized his key to 221b was back at his flat. He tossed a handful of notes at the cabbie and hurried up the steps to hammer on the door. A minute later Mrs. Hudson was ushering him inside with offers of tea and company.

"No thanks Mrs. H, I need to see Sherlock."

"Oh I don't think he's home dear, I'm sure I heard him go out."

Greg looked up the stairs to the blacker patch of shadow that told him the flat door stood open, but it was the shapeless pile of fabric on the stair that made his heart constrict. "He's home," he said nervously. "We had a bit of a tiff; I need to go apologize so maybe we'll take a rain check on the tea?"

"Of course dear. It'll be alright Greg, that man loves you so much he'll forgive anything." She patted his arm and bustled back into her own rooms closing the door behind her. _I hope so Mrs. Hudson, I really do._

He lifted Sherlock's coat reverently from the stair as he trudged upwards, plucking his scarf from the third from top step and nudging one shoe past the threshold with his toe as he made the small landing. Just inside the door the other shoe almost tripped him, unseen in the darkness. This wasn't good. He recalled a handful of times when he'd been the one to stumble across Sherlock high on cocaine and totally nude, clothes scattered to the four winds because he could no longer bear the touch of the fabric against his skin. He flicked on the light and uttered a small sound of distress. Sherlock's trousers, jacket and shirt were strewn in a rough path towards his bedroom. He wouldn't go back to coke surely, not over this?

"Crap!" Sherlock's bedroom door stood open, no sound coming from within, and when Greg cautiously poked his head in the room was empty. A quick scan of the flat determined the only possible place he could be was the bathroom.

"Sherlock?" he knocked softly, "are you in there?" Silence, but then a shuffle of a foot across the floor and the soft bump of a head resting against the opposite side of the door. "Sherlock, are you ok? Please tell me you're ok?"

"Go away!" His unhappy voice came from much nearer the floor, probably sitting on the tiles, leaning against the door. Greg set his back to the wood and slid down until he thought they were level. He pulled Sherlock's heavy coat across his lap, wrapping himself in it like a security blanket and breathing in the spicy scent of the man he was sure he loved.

"I don't know what you're thinking love, but it's probably much worse than it actually is. Can you tell me?" Greg kept his voice neutral although there was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and his throat and eyes burned with the effort of keeping his fear in check. Sherlock gave a choked sob from the other side that startled Greg so much he jumped banging his forehead against the door frame, yelping at the sharp pain.

"I didn't mess it up Greg. All the time I worried I'd let you down and in the end it wasn't me. I should have stayed away, but I had to know…"

"I know, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for making you feel like you couldn't trust me. Nothing happened, I swear. I… I swear to you that we didn't sleep together. It was a misunderstanding." He bit his lip, hoping that a bit of flirting and groping could be considered 'nothing'. Something hard – a fist or maybe a head - thudded three times against the wood making it shake. Sherlock moaned and banged again harder. Greg should know that a simple wooden barrier wouldn't prevent his boyfriend from detecting the lie in his statement. "Sherlock, stop, please don't hurt yourself… I'm not worth it… " Tears that had threatened to spill from the moment he'd recognized Sherlock on the street finally broke free, streaking down his cheeks to drip from his chin. He wanted to pull the other man into his arms and soothe away all that pain, but he _was_ the pain. "Let me in? Please?"

There was movement, and Greg thought Sherlock was about to comply with his request, but the door didn't open. Instead he heard light splashes as Sherlock lowered into the bath.

"Sherlock, what are you doing? Please tell me you're alright! I swear I never meant to hurt you, I was just being stupid, and I suppose I was a bit flattered she still wanted me after all this time, but we didn't have sex, I promise you." He heard the cliché fall from his lips, a back-to-front memory of conversations he'd had with his wife. Conversations where _he_ was the wronged party and he could be arrogant in his certainty he wouldn't ever inflict that kind of pain on someone he loved.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, please say something or I'll break the lock on this bloody door!" The silence was deafening on the other side, not even the lapping of water in the bathtub could be heard when he pressed his ear to it. "Sherlock? _Sherlock_! Right, that's it!" Greg scrambled to his feet and launched himself at the door. It took three hefty shoves with his full weight crashing behind his shoulder for the door to fly open, the doorframe splintering and the ancient bolt pinging off into the bathroom. For an instant he couldn't see Sherlock at all in the tiny room, which was ludicrous, but then he realized the detective lay fully submerged beneath the water eyes staring at the ceiling.

"Oh my god," screamed Greg, thrusting his arms into the freezing water in the tub and grabbing the detective around the middle. The sudden intrusion shocked Sherlock back to reality, his mouth and nose opening reflexively so he took in a huge lungful of water causing him to panic and fight his way back to the air, arms and legs flailing, battering the older man. Greg hauled him over the side of the tub head first, and thumped between his shoulder blades until the water spurted like a fountain from his nose and mouth all over the floor. "Oh god, please be ok, please, please be ok Sherlock," he panted through sobs. Sherlock was half in and half out of the chilly water, bent double over the side of the bath heaving in breaths and spitting up water. Greg's legs gave way and he slumped to the tiles lugging the man from the tub completely and collapsing under his weight not caring about the waterfall that spilled over the floor soaking into his trousers and shoes.

Sherlock half lay on top of Greg, dazed and shivering from the cold bath and the shock in equal measure. Greg reached for the largest towel he could find on the rack and wrapped it round them both; trying to share his body heat, although the wet detective meant they both grew colder instead.

"What were you _thinking_?" He barked at the soaking man, his vice-like hug at odds with his sharp tone. "You could have drowned, you fool! I won't lose you again Sherlock! I was an idiot but if you want rid of me there are less harmful ways than this."

"Don't... Want... Rid..." He said between chattering teeth. "Just want... You to be... All mine."

Greg squeezed the naked shivering man tightly against his chest and pressed his lips to Sherlock's frozen cheek, ignoring the streaming water that ran from his lover's hair.

"I _am_. I will be. I made a stupid fuck up but I realized my mistake before it went too far. I'm so sorry, how do I fix this? Please tell me, I'll do anything you ask. I love you so much."

"I would ask you not to try drowning me when I'm thinking for a start," the detective grumbled against his neck sounding more like his snarky self.

"Thinking? You were submerged in a bath full of cold water! You were distressed; I thought you were trying to harm yourself!"

"Why would I do that? I _am_ upset, but it would be an extreme reaction to drown myself, would it not?"

"You're unpredictable and dramatic enough to believe it to be a perfectly reasonable action," Greg huffed, relieved that his heart was returning to a steadier beat after his scare. "I know you're angry with me but let me do one thing? Let me warm you up?"

Sherlock nodded, struggling to his feet and pulling Greg to stand too. The older man's clothes were drenched, his white shirt slicked deliciously to his broad chest. Sherlock pressed his palm to Greg's chest and stroked his thumb over one peaked nipple making Greg shudder. "I'm still mad as hell with you but I can guarantee there is one way you can warm us both, and go some way towards making it up to me."


	5. Chapter 5

**Kiss me**

"Get out of those wet clothes," ordered Sherlock plunging his hand into the cold bath water and removing the plug. He reached for the shower controls and switched them on, holding his hand under the stream until he was satisfied it was heating nicely.

"They wouldn't be sopping wet if I hadn't rescued you," grumbled Greg but he hurried to obey, struggling to poke the tiny buttons through the wet fabric. If Sherlock was in the mood for getting naked then he wasn't going to argue. Sherlock regarded his slow progress and fidgeted impatiently until Greg tugged his shirt over his head, getting stuck halfway when the damp sleeves refused to yield. "Oh for fucks sake!" The DI exclaimed, attempting to wriggle free of the suffocating fabric.

"You could just ask me for help you know? Although it is entertaining watching you fight with your clothing, I'd rather we were warming up in the shower before all the hot water disappears down the drain."

"Help. Please?" Greg's muffled voice made the detective chuckle. He stepped behind Greg and dropped a light kiss on his exposed shoulder. "Oh! Nice!" Sherlock made short work of the shirt and the rest of Greg's clothing, gently batting away any attempt his boyfriend made to assist. It was starting to warm up in the bathroom as steam from the shower billowed around them creating a light fog in the harsh bathroom light. Sherlock stepped under the shower drawing Greg in with him and wrapping his arms tightly around him from behind. The contrast of Sherlock's chilled skin pressed against his back while the hot water flowed around them was exquisite. "You need to take a cold dip more often," Greg chuckled.

Sherlock hummed, kissing across his shoulders and up the side of his neck to nibble at his earlobe, alternating the gentle nips with swipes of his tongue around the shell of his ear. With every lick a puff of hot breath tickled the sensitive skin causing the tiny hairs to prickle. "Not that I'm complaining at all," Greg murmured leaning against his lover. "But wasn't _I_ meant to be making it up to _you_? If this is punishment I may have to piss you off more often." Sherlock nipped hard on his neck making him yelp. "Fuck Sherlock that _hurt_!"

"Then shut up," the detective said. He released him from his grasp, only to recapture him in the circle of his arms, pinning Greg's arms firmly to his side and clutching his wrists together in one large hand holding them tightly against his belly. Greg gave a mock struggle, testing Sherlock's resolve, but gave in when the other man's mouth fell on his neck just above his clavicle, and suckled on the skin there, worrying at it gently with grazes of his teeth. Greg moaned, fingers flexing against his own stomach beneath Sherlock's firm hand, reaching toward his stiffening cock. "No," breathed Sherlock against his ear. "No touching yourself."

He stroked one pointed finger over the shell of Greg's ear, down the side of his neck and along his clavicle to his shoulder, trailing leisurely down his arm and over his chest, skimming a nipple, tracing his abs and finally dipping into his navel. Greg shivered in spite of the hot water that was turning their skin blush pink. "Oh God, Sherlock, keep going lower. I want you to touch me."

"I'll touch you," Sherlock chuckled. "I'll touch you here…" he dropped a kiss on his neck, "… and here…" one on his shoulder, "…here…" he turned Greg in his arms and pressed his lips to the top of Greg's pectoral. Sherlock's hands rested on his hips, holding him firmly so he couldn't move towards his lover and gain the satisfaction of being pressed against the younger man. Greg pushed against his hold; growing needier the longer Sherlock touched his lips to his skin in teasing, but ultimately unsatisfactory, places. "I'll touch you here, Greg, with my lips and tongue," he whispered against his right nipple, stroking wetly over the sensitive nub, "but I won't touch your cock, and nor will you."

"Fuck!" Greg attempted to slide his hands around Sherlock's waist now his hands were free, but Sherlock grabbed his wrists with a sharp "No!" and moved them up to his shoulders.

"Keep them there, or else!"

"Or else what?"

"Or else I will withhold sex indefinitely," Sherlock said sweetly, grinning at his boyfriend. His wet curls were slicked back making him look younger, and his perfect, luscious mouth curled in a wicked smile. He licked his lips deliberately making Greg's cock twitch.

"You're enjoying this, you bastard."

"Yes, I am, and so are you, and that's my point." Sherlock leaned forward so their groins wouldn't connect and kissed the carotid pulse that fluttered beneath his lover's flushed skin. "This is new, and scary, and wonderful, and hotter than anything you've had before. You're worried you're missing something." He stroked his tongue over that flickering point, working the tip against the tiny beating heartbeat, until Greg whimpered and jerked his hips desperately seeking friction. "You're concerned that sex with me will become routine and mechanical because we're following bloody how-to videos on the internet instead of just going with it and seeing what feels good. Tell me Greg… how many variations of sex with a woman have you had in the last ten years? How many times have you been imaginative and free and enjoyed playing? Or have you always considered vaginal penetration and mutual orgasm to be the pinnacle of good sex? You don't have a formula with me – you have to be prepared to make the sex sensational. You have to use your beautiful, filthy, erotic imagination and you have to take your time. I know we can have sensational, but you have to commit to being mine and only mine… I don't share well."

Greg groaned and gripped Sherlock tightly, fingers digging into his bony shoulders. "How can you telling me how mundane my sex life is be so hot?" he panted. "If you're not going to damn well touch me then _please_ kiss me!"

"With pleasure." Sherlock leaned into the kiss, pressing his full lips against Greg's. Greg slid his tongue along the detective's plump lower lip until Sherlock parted for him, allowing Greg to sink his agile tongue into the cavern of his mouth. He stroked the nimble organ over Sherlock's lips and teeth, probing and sliding against the detective's own until it was Sherlock moaning his desire, although he kept a determined distance between their lower bodies.

"I don't want to share you. I don't want to be shared,' babbled Greg between hot, wet open-mouthed kisses. Sherlock's fingernails were biting into the flesh of his hips, marking him with the crescents of his finger nails. "I hate you!" he wailed as Sherlock resolutely prevented him from rutting against him. He was so hard that even the spray of the water over his cock was threatening to spill him over the edge.

"I love you too," Sherlock groaned, fearing he was going to give in at any minute.

"God yes, Sherlock. I love you, I promise I do, I love you. There is no one else, and I don't want anyone else. Now please, _fuck_ love, just _touch me!_"


	6. Chapter 6

**Wicked**

"Hands against the wall," ordered Sherlock removing Greg's hands from his shoulders and kissing the base of his lover's throat. Greg had been making desperate needy noises for the last five minutes, begging Sherlock to do something - _anything!_ - to get him off and the detective decided he'd probably had enough teasing. He was finding it increasingly hard to focus and his body was urging him to give in to Greg's pleading. Greg slapped his palms against the tiles so fast it stung, practically falling in his haste to comply with whatever Sherlock demanded of him.

"I think I'm warm enough now, definitely ready for a nap," Sherlock said smugly, stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel. It wasn't exactly comfortable wrapping it around his hips when his erection stood proud but it was worth it for the priceless look on Greg's face when he realized Sherlock had no intention of finishing what he started.

"What? You _bastard_!" He yelled at the detective's retreating back as he exited the bathroom leaving the door wide open behind him so the cold air rushed in. Greg twisted the shower off and scrambled from the tub with no decorum whatsoever, not bothering to grab a towel off the rack before rushing as best he could to Sherlock's bedroom. His boyfriend stood naked before the mirror calmly toweling his hair as though the evidence of his arousal wasn't obvious. He looked amazing, a living breathing alabaster statue of a man with a raging hard on. Greg almost choked on the powerful rush of desire that had him crossing the room in three strides and dropping to his knees, taking two thirds of that beautiful thick length into his mouth and clamping his hands on Sherlock's muscled arse cheeks.

Sherlock _squeaked_ - no other word for it - and grasped a handful of Greg's short wet hair, tugging on it painfully which only served to make the DI moan around his cock sending incredible vibrations through his length to his balls, which were already growing tight. "Fuck Greg!" He gasped as his lover's tongue pressed against his shaft in long stroking caresses. Greg looked up his body taking in every luscious inch of taut lean muscle and the tension of his posture as he fought to hold back his orgasm. Oh god this was _so_ good. He slid a finger into his mouth alongside Sherlock's cock getting it nicely wet, nudging Sherlock's legs apart with his knees so he could reach under him and tease his arse. Not as good as lube, but Sherlock was so close, fighting not to thrust into Greg's eager mouth that it wouldn't take much. Simultaneously the older man pressed that slick digit against his hole and swallowed Sherlock's entire length, taking him deep into his throat in one smooth movement. Sherlock's entire body convulsed with the force of his orgasm, ejaculate shooting down his lover's throat and a stream of profanity bursting from his lips. Blindly Greg reached for himself but his fingers had barely closed around his cock before he was coming hard over his hand and Sherlock's legs and the bedroom floor.

He pulled off the shuddering man with a wet pop dimly remembering he needed to breathe. His jaw ached but the dazed expression on Sherlock's face was worth every twinge. He helped the younger man lower himself to the floor when his legs turned to jelly and pulled him into his arms so they could lean against the bed. They were both a little breathless. "You were right," Greg murmured.

"Hmm?"

"This is the scariest and hottest sex I have had in my entire life, and I love it. I love you!"

"Mm, love you too."


	7. Chapter 7

**Lucky day**

"Sherlock, you _can_ let go of my hand you know? I can be trusted to be in Kate's company without having you glued to my side." Greg tried to walk up the stairs to his flat but the stairwell wasn't wide enough to accommodate them side by side. Sherlock had twined their fingers together the moment they left Baker Street and refused to let him go. In the cab he had repeatedly raised Greg's hand to his mouth, kissing his knuckles and once sucking on the tip of his finger until Greg had to tell him to stop before things got too heated. It was sweet and lovely but totally impractical for mundane actions like climbing stairs and unlocking doors.

"Are you sure?" Greg struggled to get his key in the lock with Sherlock wrapped around him like a second coat. "The last time you saw her all her clothes fell off." The DI groaned, giving up on the lock and turning in Sherlock's arms. They hadn't actually got around to discussing exactly what Sherlock saw and doing so now, on the landing outside his flat, didn't seem like a great move, but he took the detective's continuing hug as a good sign.

"Um... You saw that huh?" He risked. "She was looking for a towel."

"And you keep them right by the window? Maybe she wanted some help with the shower?"

Greg sighed, sliding his arms around his boyfriend's waist so he could return the hug. He rested his forehead against Sherlock's, gazing into his eyes. It was a little too close, causing his eyes to cross which made him want to giggle but he didn't think Sherlock would see the funny side. Pulling his head back so he could focus properly he asked, "are we really going to do this here and now? I can keep apologizing for months if that's what it takes, but sending Kate back to Durham is step one."

Sherlock blinked, appearing to consider Greg's plan and nodded. "Fine. Get rid of her and then keep apologizing. I like the way you apologize."

Greg's small flat was almost as he left it apart from the trail of clothing leading to the bedroom. Sherlock plucked a purple bra from the back of the sofa allowing it to dangle from one long finger. "Can this woman ever keep her clothes on?" He asked drily, noting the matching pants were lying in a corner not far from a man's white shirt. Greg flushed with anger at her impertinence in bringing someone back to his flat without permission, but then he _had_ abandoned her without warning... Still, it was a bit cheeky... And clearly the guy was still here. _Oh great! Now not only did he have to inform his friend she'd outstayed her welcome, he also had to evict a naked stranger from his bed. Not for the first time admittedly, but generally the strangers were female and there at his invitation._

Greg strode to the bedroom door and was about to barge in when he decided it would be more prudent to knock first. When he did there was a muffled "fuck, he's home!" and then Kate was at the door, squeezing through and attempting to pull it shut behind her. She was naked and he tried not to look, but _really_...? Where was he supposed to keep his eyes? He could feel the weight of Sherlock's glare on the back of his neck, and a second later he could feel his lips right there, kissing along his hairline. Sherlock's strong arm slid around his waist and pulled him back against his body, chin coming to rest on his shoulder.

"DI Waterstone," Sherlock greeted coolly and Kate flushed under the scrutiny of his chilly gaze.

"Um... Sorry. Wasn't expecting you back so early. I... We... Um... I _did_ text you." She shrugged, full breasts jumping a little which Greg absolutely did _not_ notice.

"I took off without my phone. Um... Could you maybe put some clothes on and ask um - your _friend_ - to leave?"

"Oh! Yes, I guess so." She began gathering up the clothes from the floor and retreated to the bedroom. The second she'd gone Sherlock pounced, spinning his boyfriend around and smashing his lips to Greg's in a possessive kiss. His tongue thrust against Greg's lips until he allowed him entry, shocked by the lustful groan that issued from deep in his throat.

"Whoa boy, slow down," chuckled Greg, "anyone would think you were jealous or something."

"She was trying to tempt you."

"She has a bloke in there already!"

"I don't think that would have mattered if you'd come home alone. Or would you have turned her down?" Sherlock scowled at him, irritated that Greg's anger had dissipated the moment Kate paraded out of the bedroom. It seemed Greg would forgive her anything if she disrobed, he thought bitterly.

"Sherlock! I'm done with her ok? Come here now!"

The detective raised an eyebrow at the order but obediently took a step forward within Greg's reach. Greg slid Sherlock's coat from his shoulders, followed by his jacket, then he removed his own coat and backed the curly haired man into the sofa. He gave a little push to make him sit, and then he was clambering on top of him to straddle his lap. "Greg...? We aren't exactly alone..."

"And...?" Greg pressed his warm lips to Sherlock's neck, fingers seeking the topmost buttons of his shirt and deftly flicking them open. He kissed the pale skin of his throat, working the tip of his tongue into the dip above his collarbone that was guaranteed to make Sherlock wriggle.

"And... Oh, that's good... But... You need to stop until we're alone..."

"Why? It's my flat. I can make out with my boyfriend if I want to."

"Yes but..."

"Sherlock, stop talking so much and kiss me!" He buried his fingers in the other man's curls guiding his head to the perfect angle for their mouths to meet. The kiss started softly, a firm but gentle pressure that grew more insistent when Sherlock tugged Greg's shirt free of his trousers and slid one hand up his bare back and the other dipped beneath his waistband to caress over the magic spot at the base of the DI's spine. "Oh god, how do you always find that spot...?" Greg moaned appreciatively, undecided whether to move towards Sherlock's amazing touch or grind his growing erection into his lover's stomach. In the end Sherlock decided for him, tugging his hips closer with his free hand and keeping up the delicious teasing with the other. Neither detective noticed the red faced man scuttle from the flat.

Ten minutes later the couple was stretched out on the sofa, Sherlock lying between his boyfriend's spread legs, any earlier inhibitions apparently forgotten as he rutted shamelessly against him. Greg panted hot filthy words in his ear encouraging him to rub himself off against him. They were both fully clothed, only their shirts in disarray, but it only added to the erotic pleasure, and Greg's turn of phrase was exquisitely dirty. Kate stood at the door, overnight bag in hand and decently clothed but the sight before her made her wish she wasn't. _Christ_ but that consulting detective was sexy, even if he was a bit of a wanker. She actually wouldn't mind a bit of that!

"Is this a private party or can anyone join in?" She said mischievously.

"Fuck off. Busy." Panted Sherlock, claiming Greg's mouth before he had a chance to speak. To his credit Greg just moaned hotly into his mouth and thrust against him, too annoyingly close to orgasm to give a damn about anyone other than the man currently driving him crazy with lust.

Kate shrugged. "My cab is downstairs."

"Mmnh" one of them replied, though she couldn't tell which. Feeling a bit disgruntled at not getting a proper goodbye from Greg she slammed the door a little harder than necessary on her way out, but not before she heard Greg's shout of pleasure as Sherlock drove him over the edge. She was pleased not to hear Sherlock's deep throated groan as he came too a couple of thrusts later. He collapsed heavily on the DI, chuckling at Greg's "Oof!" of protest. "Get up, idiot."

Sherlock hauled himself up to sit, wincing at the cooling stickiness in his pants. Funny how quickly intense pleasure just turned to discomfort if you didn't get around to getting undressed. He'd have to hope he had some spare clothes here. Greg laid back, one arm behind his head looking thoroughly shagged for all it had only amounted to a mutual wank. "She's gone," said Sherlock cheerfully.

"Who?" he asked sleepily.

"Your ex. Left in a taxi about five minutes ago."

"Oh! Didn't notice."

"Good." He wriggled down beside his boyfriend content


End file.
